


Matt Devlin Lives, part 2

by VelveteenThestral



Series: Law & Order UK: I Reject Your Reality & Substitute My Own [2]
Category: Law & Order: UK
Genre: Character Death Fix, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelveteenThestral/pseuds/VelveteenThestral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DS Matt Devlin took two bullets to the chest at the end of the Mark Ellis trial. His injuries, although serious, were not fatal, and his week in hospital an exercise in tedium, despite regular visits from his partner, DS Brooks, his civil partner, Andrew Martin, and his sister, Niamh Devlin-Ward. At the end of the week, he was more than ready to go home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matt Devlin Lives, part 2

**Author's Note:**

> While no archive warnings apply, those who dislike descriptions of hospital routine and discomforts might want to be aware that this story has plenty of that. Also glancing reference to unsupportive families, and some very chaste m/m kissing at the end.

Andrew was tired enough to drop his keys with a clatter before he remembered that it would be easier to open the door if he set the carrier bag down first. It took another few moments of fumbling before he realized that he needed to take his gloves off in order to pick up the keys. Shaking his head, he let himself into the flat.

As he was putting the cat food away, Lucky twining around his ankles, he caught sight of the photo on the fridge of Matt clowning with his sister, the one he’d taken of the two of them on Niamh’s birthday last year. _I ought to call Niamh_ , he thought guiltily. He hadn’t even thought of her last night, when he was sitting beside Matt’s hospital bed. Where was her phone number, anyway? Besides Matt’s phone, of course. Maybe the Christmas card list in the computer? He rubbed his eyes and decided to look for it after he’d had some sleep.

***

Ronnie turned up again at the hospital around lunchtime. Matt brightened as he walked in, and tried to sit up, but fell back against his pillow, wincing at the effort. He pushed a button that tilted up the top half of his bed. “Skiving off, Ron?”

“Thought you’d appreciate the latest,” Ronnie said, sitting down. “We’ve traced the car. Stolen, of course. Still trying to sort out what connection there is to Mark Ellis, or if it’s another matter entirely.”

“You doing this all yourself, then?”

“No, they’ve given me another bloke to help. Can’t wait until you’re back on the job with me.”

“Neither can I, Ron,” Matt said.

“You need anything, while you’re here?”

“Can’t think what,” Matt said. “Can’t eat, I’m mostly too doped up to read, and I don’t really fancy a bunch of shiny balloons saying ‘Get Well Soon,’ yeah?” Ronnie laughed. “If there’s anything I’ve forgotten, I’m sure Andrew will bring it.”

“You’ve got a good man, there,” Ronnie said seriously.

“I know I do.”

“You could have told me about him,” Ronnie said. “You know I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I know,” said Matt, looking sheepish. “Keeping quiet just... gets to be a habit, after a while.”

“I understand why you did,” Ronnie said. “We’ve both seen what can happen if it gets out. Still. I’d already figured out he was more than your flatmate. Did you think I was thick?”

“If I refuse to answer that, will it harm my defence later?” Matt teased. “And you knew, but you never said anything?”

“Reckoned if you didn’t want to say anything, it was no business of mine,” Ronnie said.

“Thanks,” Matt said, a world of meaning in the single word.

A nurse came in. “You’ll have to step outside for a bit,” she told Ronnie. “We’ve got to get him ready to transfer to the regular ward.”

“Hello? You needn’t talk about me as if I’m not here,” Matt said, but she ignored him.

“Transferring him?” Ronnie said. “I’ll just have a word with the guard, then, make sure he knows.”

“Guard?” Matt said.

“You didn’t think we’d leave you here all alone?” Ronnie said. “Just in case it was you they had it in for, and not Kaden, and someone decides to have another go at it.”

“Right,” Matt said.

“Really, you’ll have to step outside now,” the nurse insisted.

“All right, all right,” Ronnie said, moving towards the door. “See you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed, before the nurse reached over him, blocking his view.

***

Once Andrew woke up, took a shower, and took almost two days’ worth of stubble off his face, he realized that it was nearly dinnertime, and he’d had nothing but a sausage roll since yesterday lunch. Luckily, there was the leftover mushroom risotto he’d made on Monday night still in the fridge; he didn’t think he had the energy even to scramble an egg, so he would have been reduced to breakfast cereal, else. After he’d eaten, he told himself sternly that he’d put off calling Niamh long enough. A quick search through archived emails got him her phone number; he decided to call from the landline, in case she didn’t recognize his mobile number any more than he’d recognize hers. He dialed.

“Hullo, Matt,” Niamh said, picking up.

“It’s Andrew, actually,” he said.

“Andrew? Why are you... is Matt all right?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Andrew said, wanting to reassure her immediately, before he got to the details. “He’s in hospital, but he’s going to be fine.”

“In hospital? What happened?”

Andrew took a deep breath. “He was shot,” he said. He ignored her immediate protest. “He’s got some damage to his shoulder, and also his esophagus, but he’s going to be _fine_. He’ll be in hospital a week, but he’s already awake and talking and making a fuss that he can’t get right back to work.”

“When did it happen?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Andrew said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you before, Niamh. I was at the hospital before he got out of surgery, and I waited up all night until he was awake, and I was so worried I didn’t even think of it until I came home and saw your picture on the fridge.”

“Fine brother-in-law you are,” Niamh said, her voice still shaky. “Which hospital? I’ll be over as soon as... no, I’ve got those _bloody_ teacher meetings for the hellions tonight, I _can’t_. ”

“He’s at the Royal London Hospital,” Andrew said. “And I’m sure Matt will be happy to see you, even if it can’t be until tomorrow, or Saturday. It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.” He added, “I’d offer to give you a lift, but there’s only street parking near the hospital, and not much of that. You’re better off with a taxi, or the Tube.”

“I don’t know why you bother to drive into the city at all,” Niamh said. “I might ask you for a lift home, though. Have I got your mobile number?” He gave it to her, and rang off.

That dealt with, he went back to the hospital. He ignored the reception desk at the main entrance, heading straight for the ICU. When he looked into Matt’s room, though, he got a nasty shock: Matt wasn’t in it. _Did I get the number wrong?_ he thought, his heart racing. But Matt wasn’t in any of the other rooms, either. _Surely they’d have called me..._ Fighting down panic, he approached the nursing station.

“Matt Devlin?” the nurse said, in response to his anxious inquiry. “He’s been moved to a regular ward. He’s on the mend, and we’ve got to save these beds for people who are _really_ ill, don’t we? Let me get his room assignment for you.” She consulted her computer. “Now that’s odd... you’d best check at the main information desk, it won’t tell me. These electronic systems!”

“Could I see some identification?” the receptionist asked. Andrew dug out his driving licence. “Thank you, Mr. Martin.” She told him Matt’s room number, and directions. “Just show your licence to the guard on the ward, and you’ll have no trouble.” Andrew nodded. Two steps away from the reception desk, he turned back.

“Can I add another name to the list of visitors?” he asked. “Matt’s sister will be coming to visit. Her name’s Niamh Devlin-Ward.”

“Spell that for me, please?” the receptionist asked, sounding bored. She typed it in. “All set now.”

“Thank you,” Andrew said, heading for the lifts.

“There you are,” Matt said, when he walked into the room. He had the bed raised to half sitting up, and the television was playing quietly. He still looked pale, but there was a smile as he turned to his partner.

“No ‘hello’ or ‘good to see you,’ then?” Andrew said, laughing. He leaned over and kissed Matt’s forehead, then pulled up a chair. “I got some sleep, just like you told me to. And I bought more cat food.”

“That’s good,” Matt said. “ _And_ you shaved. I wasn’t going to say anything, but you were starting to look pretty ragged, there.” He paused. “Hell. How am _I_ going to shave?”

“I’ll bring in that electric shaver I never liked,” Andrew said. “I’m sure it’s still at the back of the cupboard.”

“I don’t like it either,” Matt fussed. “It feels like it’s ripping the hairs out.”

“It’s better than not shaving,” Andrew said. “Since I’m sure you don’t want me playing Sweeney Todd ‘round your chin.”

“I’d trust you,” Matt said. Andrew caught his breath at that, and squeezed Matt’s hand. Matt squeezed back.

“I got a parking ticket, last night,” Andrew said. “I don’t suppose...”

Matt rolled his eyes. “How many times have I told you, it’s not--”

“--the police any more, it’s the council,” Andrew said in unison with him.

“Told you you ought to have gone home,” Matt said. “Give it to me, I’ll give it to Ronnie, see what he can do. Reckon this is a special circumstance.” He smiled.

“What are you watching?” Andrew said, glancing up at the television.

“I don’t even know,” Matt said. “But the sound of it covers up all the equipment beeping and wheezing and having bloody alarms go off just when you’ve got used to things.”

“Shall we find something better, then?” Andrew said.

Matt tried to shrug, and winced. “Yeah.”

Andrew picked up the remote and cycled through the channels. “That’ll do,” he said.

“What, a police programme?” Matt said. “Bit of a busman’s holiday for me, yeah?”

“This one’s a comedy,” Andrew said. “I don’t think it even tries to be accurate about procedure, and in any case it’s American, so don’t wear yourself out telling it how they’ve got it wrong, either.”

“Who, me?” Matt said. “I never!” He grinned at Andrew.

Andrew grinned back. “Look, we haven’t even missed much, it’s still on the opening credits.”

“Hang on,” Matt said, moments later. “William Atherton? Wasn’t he in _Ghostbusters_? The prat who wanted to shut down the ghost storage thing?”

“You think I remember that?”

“What, don’t tell me you didn’t watch that film over and over when you were twelve, too,” Matt said.

“Clearly not as many times as you did!” Andrew said. “You’re right, though. I think that’s him.”

They settled in to watch the show together, spending as much time ridiculing it as watching. At one of the breaks, Matt looked very seriously at Andrew. “For the record, when I do die,” he said, “I do _not_ want to be a human ice lolly.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Andrew said, trying hard to keep a straight face. “So what do you want?”

“Oh, just the usual,” Matt said.

“No barrow with grave-goods? No burning Viking ship?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Matt said.

“But I did make you laugh,” Andrew pointed out. He ruffled his hand over Matt’s hair.

A bit later in the programme, when it took an even more preposterous turn, Matt commented, “I _especially_ do not want to be a _beheaded_ ice lolly.”

Andrew didn’t even try not to laugh. “What do you think of a nice marble effigy, with chainmail and a sword?” he suggested. “Although I suppose in your case it ought to be a ballistic vest, not chainmail.”

“What are you on about?” Matt said, laughing too.

“Oh, I forgot,” Andrew said. “You’re Irish, not Welsh. You probably didn’t get King Arthur and castles and knights fed to you with your strained peas.”

“Clearly not as much as you did!” Matt teased.

“Still, you have to admit you’re something of a white knight,” Andrew said. He chuckled as a thought hit him. “Which makes me the chatelaine at home with the keys to the castle! Or steward, I suppose, if you want to make it more butch.”

“You _are_ mad,” Matt said.

“I probably am,” Andrew said. “Doesn’t change that I’ll still be home waiting for you.”

Matt looked at him, the mockery gone, and squeezed Andrew’s hand. They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

At the end of the programme, a nurse came in. “Evening visiting hours are almost over,” he said. “You’ll be able to come back tomorrow, but he needs his rest.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all day?” Matt said. He looked at Andrew. “Still, you’ll need some, if you’re going back to work tomorrow. You are, yeah?”

“I hadn’t decided,” Andrew admitted. “I hadn’t thought much past today.”

“You should,” Matt said. “Don’t waste all your leave sitting round here. I mean it. I’ll need you around more when I’m not surrounded by doctors and nurses, won’t I?”

“All right,” Andrew said. “Oh, and I called Niamh. So you’ll probably be seeing her soon.”

“You did?” Matt said. “Thanks. I’d have remembered to ask you, eventually.”

“I won’t tell her you said that,” Andrew said, standing up. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He kissed Matt’s temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Matt said, brushing his fingers along Andrew’s arm. “See you tomorrow.” And, with that, Andrew left.

At home, Andrew stripped off his clothes and changed into a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms. He got into bed, but it seemed uncharacteristically cold, so he got up and pulled on a T-shirt. Lucky was prowling around the bedroom, poking his head under the bed and demonstrating his trick of opening the closet door, something he managed surprisingly well for a creature without thumbs. His puzzled meows as he brushed against Andrew’s ankles made it plain who he was looking for. Andrew bent down and stroked him, the head-to-tail strokes that always made him purr. “I know,” he said. “I miss him, too.”

When Andrew got back under the covers, Lucky jumped up onto the bed, although he’d done that less often lately as his joints grew older with the rest of him. He paced the duvet, his collar bell jingling, walked across Andrew’s head, and curled up on Matt’s pillow to sleep.

***

Kate looked up in surprise as Andrew walked into the office on Friday morning. “Andrew,” she said, not even bothering with “good morning.” “How’s Matt?”

“Better, thanks,” Andrew said, smiling at her concern. “He’s out of intensive care already, and bored enough to watch television. I can’t wait to have him home. Will James be in meetings all day? I want to ask him if I can work from home once Matt’s discharged, so I can look after him, and drive him to physio. He’ll have trouble with his left arm for a while, and... well, I’d just rather be near him for a bit.”

“Of course you would,” Kate said sympathetically. “I’d feel the same. I’ll set up a meeting for you as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” Andrew said, heading into his office to face what he expected would be a terrible backlog of work.

***

“Matt.” The thin, blonde woman stopped in the doorway, looking at the man in the bed. “Oh, Matt.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, come in and sit down, Niamh,” Matt told his sister. “Do I really look _that_ bad?”

“It’s not that,” Niamh said, sitting in the chair across from the bed. “Seeing you like this just makes me realize how close I came to losing you. Every time I heard on the news, ‘police office shot in the line of duty,’ I’d say a prayer for you, you know.”

Matt didn’t answer her directly. “I still have that St. Michael’s medal you gave me the day I joined the force,” he said. “Wore it every day.”

“Well, you can’t say it didn’t work, now!” Niamh said.

“Reckon it did, at that,” Matt said. “How are the boys?”

“Oh, they’re up to their usual tricks,” Niamh said, sighing. “I would have been here last night, if I hadn’t had a meeting with their teacher. Can you believe...” and, with that, she launched into a description of the latest mayhem that a pair of seven-year-old twins had unleashed on their classroom. Matt listened, alternating between chuckling and offering sympathy. When Niamh had finished the story, her face grew serious again.

“Are you going to let Dad know about this?”

Matt’s face shut down. “No.”

“Do you want me to call him?”

“No,” he repeated. “Last time I spoke to him he said he didn’t care if I lived or died. Why should it matter that I’m not, now?”

“Matt...”

“I mean it, Niamh,” he said. “I’m not going to go begging to him. If he reads about it in the papers, and decides it makes a difference to him, let him come to me. And then I’ll think about it.”

Niamh shook her head. “You _would_ always rather cough up a pint of blood than swallow an ounce of pride.”

“Well, and I just did, didn’t I?”

Niamh had to laugh. “Reckon you did, at that!”

Andrew walked in, folding his coat over his arm, and went straight to Matt’s side. “I got here as soon as I could,” he said, taking Matt’s hand in his. “How are you?”

“Better than yesterday,” Matt said. “Had a few visitors.” Only then did Andrew register the other person in the room.

“Hello, Niamh,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, and you?’

“I’m well. How are Dennis and the boys?”

“The boys,” she said. “Don’t get me started! We’ll be here all night. And I should be getting back to them. They’ve probably talked Dennis into giving them fish fingers and custard by now, and then I’ll be the one getting up when they’re sick from it.”

Matt laughed. “They’ll really eat that? Not just push it around their plates?”

“They’re proper little terrors, you’ve no idea, Uncle Matthew,” Niamh said.

“Oh, believe me, I do.”

“Would you like me to run you home, Niamh?” Andrew offered.

“Would you? That’d be a great help. If you can spare him, Matt,” she added.

“I’ll be fine,” Matt assured her. “Get a bite to eat while you’re out,” he told Andrew. “At least one of us ought to. Just hurry back, yeah?”

“Of course I will,” Andrew promised.

Matt didn’t have to wait long before another visitor came to distract him. “Thought you said you didn’t fancy a lot of shiny balloons?” Ronnie said, nodding at the bunch tied to a houseplant on a side table.

“Alesha’s idea,” Matt said. “She brought them round at lunchtime. What was I going to do, yeah?”

“Did Alesha tell you what we’d found out?”

“No,” Matt said, some of his usual friendly sarcasm coming into his voice. “She kept it more to ‘how are you feeling, Matt?’ and ‘hope you’ll be out of here soon.’ Along with one very embarrassing ‘you saved my life, you know.’ Had to get her to stop going on about _that_.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Ronnie said, disregarding the mockery, “because, since lunchtime, we’ve finally got some answers. I warn you, you are _not_ going to like them.”

“Oh, I can’t _wait_ to hear _this_.”

“The shooter,” Ronnie said, “was one Jamal Clarkson. Ten years ago, Mark Ellis shot his brother, Kieran, but the death was ruled a suicide. When he heard Mark Ellis was going away for life, he reckoned he’d pop round the Old Bailey and have a go at him, yeah? Only, by the time he’d got there, Mark Ellis was already in the van, and it was too late. So, this boy genius decides that since it must have been the coppers who covered it up and got it written down as suicide, he’d take a shot at a copper, any copper, just so he’d have done something. How’s that for a lark?”

“You mean it wasn’t a hit on Kaden?” Matt said, outraged. Ronnie shook his head. “Or even someone aiming at me? He couldn’t get Mark Ellis, so he figured a copper for a consolation prize? And what’ll he get, yeah? Intent to murder pled down to GBH, ten years and out in half that?”

“Easy, Sunshine,” Ronnie said. “Think of your arteries.”

“For once it’s _my_ arteries,” Matt grumbled.

“It won’t be any ten years, either,” Ronnie said. “I hadn’t wanted to tell you this, but you weren’t the only one he hit. He caught one of the uniforms in the arm, but it opened up an artery, and by the time the ambulance got there, there was nothing they could do for him.”

“Oh,” Matt said, much more subdued. “Reckon they can put him away for life, then.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

“If our friends at CPS have anything to say about it, they will,” Ronnie said. “Look, I’m sorry I told you.”

“I was going to have to know sometime, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ronnie said. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “How’s Andrew?” he said. “Thought he’d be here when I walked in. Working late?”

“No, he’s already been in,” Matt said. “And he’s coming back. He’s just giving my sister a lift home, is all.”

“Blimey,” Ronnie said. “Catch me ever giving one of my sisters-in-law a lift anywhere. He always like that?”

“Only on his bad days,” Matt said, trying for deadpan.

“So how long have you two been together?”

“Oh, about seven years,” Matt said. “We made it legal five years ago.”

“Yeah?” Ronnie said. “I’ll tell you, I never saw anyone as worried as he was when he came into the hospital on Wednesday. Don’t take him for granted.” He paused, shaking his head. “Would you listen to me, giving advice like I knew anything about it?”

Matt laughed. “Well, you _are_ my main role model of what NOT to do when married. Still,” he said. “I can’t believe he waited up all night for me. Even though he knew they were keeping me under til morning.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same for him,” Ronnie said.

“Yeah,” Matt said. “I would.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “That reminds me.” He turned towards the bedside locker, but discovered he wasn’t able to reach it with his left arm strapped in place and his right hampered by the IV tubing. “Open that drawer, would you?”

“A parking ticket?” Ronnie said.

“Andrew got it Wednesday,” Matt explained. “Thought you might be able to do something about it.”

“Come on, mate, you know that’s the council,” Ronnie said.

“I know, I told him,” Matt said. “But maybe the guv can talk to someone. Under the circumstances.”

“Under the circumstances, yeah,” Ronnie echoed. “I’ll hand it off to her.”

***

In the car, Niamh sighed. “I always worried this would happen,” she said.

“So did I,” Andrew said. “But he’s alive, and he’ll get well. That’s what matters.”

“He won’t let me tell our father about it.”

“I’m hardly surprised,” Andrew said. “It’s hard to forgive, being cast off like that. I should know.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I’m sorry,” Niamh said. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s nearly twenty years ago now. Ancient history,” Andrew said. The tension in his shoulders told another story.

“I’m sorry,” Niamh repeated. “You know you’re always welcome round our place, whatever the rest of them might say.”

“I know,” Andrew said. “I appreciate it. We both do.” He drove in silence, waiting for Niamh to find a lighter topic of conversation.

***

“Did you get something to eat?” Matt said when Andrew walked back in. “Not fish fingers and custard, I hope?”

“No, I had a sandwich,” Andrew said, sitting down next to Matt.

“Lucky you,” Matt said. “They won’t even let me have water. I’ve got these vile mint-soaked sponges on sticks to use if my mouth feels dry.”

“It sounds dreadful.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Matt said. “At least they let me up to use the loo today. Can’t say as I fancied bedpans, but I had no idea just how much taking ten steps across the floor would tire me out. Not to mention having my arse hanging out of this bedsheet they’ve got me wrapped in.”

“I’ll bring in some pajama bottoms for you tomorrow,” Andrew promised. “And your trackies.”

“You’d better,” Matt said. “I had them give me back my things today, but they won’t let me use my phone in the room, and I’m not about to roam the corridors without a bit more covering!” He held up his right hand. “At least I won the argument about whether I could have this back on,” he said, letting the leather thong of his ID bracelet slide over the plastic hospital identification band. “I feel naked without it.”

“I know what you mean,” Andrew said, fingering the stainless-steel one he wore on his own wrist. “After five years it’s as if it’s a part of me.” _Like you are_ , he thought, but didn’t say it; Matt would tease him for being soppy. He laced his fingers through Matt’s, instead. “Shall I bring in some travel magazines, also?” he said. “I thought, perhaps, once you’re well enough, we might go on holiday. Somewhere warm, where we can just lie in the sun and not do anything. We could look through them, start thinking about where.”

“I’d like that,” Matt said. “Won’t you have used up all your leave by then, though?”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ve arranged it so I can work from home while you need me, as long as I go in for client meetings,” Andrew said. “They were very understanding.”

“That’s all right, then,” Matt said. “I’ll be glad to have you around.”

***

The rest of Matt’s hospital stay passed in much the same fashion. Their entire five-a-side group turned up on Sunday, crowding into the room all at once, after Andrew realized on Saturday that he ought to call them to explain why he and Matt were missing that afternoon’s match. Andrew ate more takeaway food than he’d done in years, particularly since the hospital cafe closed at five. Niamh and Dennis brought the twins to visit, whose concern for their Uncle Matthew’s health was entirely eclipsed by their awe that he’d actually been shot, as they questioned him in detail about what sort of gun the shooter had used, and just how he’d noticed it pointing at him, and everything else their bloodthirsty seven-year-old imaginations could devise, while Niamh tried without success to tell them it wasn’t proper. The room filled up with cards and gifts, despite Matt’s protests that they weren’t necessary. It was almost enough, he told Andrew, to distract him from having to taper down his painkillers. _Almost_.

On Tuesday evening, when Andrew arrived after work, he noticed that the tubes were missing from Matt’s right arm. “What’s the word?” he asked. “Will they be letting you come home tomorrow?”

“I wish,” Matt said. “They let me eat proper food today... if you can call it that... but they say I can’t leave until I’ve used the loo.”

“Haven’t you been all week?” Andrew said, puzzled. “I thought you said it was getting easier to walk there!” Matt gave him a sour look. “Oh,” Andrew said. “That.”

“Yes, _that_ ,” Matt agreed. “I’m hoping it’ll be sooner rather than later. Bring in some proper shirts and things for me tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course I will,” Andrew said. “Shall I take the day off, so that we can leave as soon as you’re ready?”

“I was ready days ago,” Matt said. “But yeah, if you like.”

“I’ll let them know,” Andrew said. Matt smiled and reached up to stroke Andrew’s face, something he hadn’t been able to do all week. Andrew caught his breath. “Proper food,” he said, so as not to turn maudlin.”What did they give you?”

“Powdered mash and lime jelly,” Matt said, making a face.

“And you hate lime jelly.”

“It doesn’t improve it to taste of blood, either.”

Andrew stroked Matt’s arm. “When we get you home, I’ll make some real proper food for you,” he promised.

***  
When Andrew arrived the next morning, Matt was sitting in one of the visitor chairs, and stood up to greet him with a brilliant smile. “I’ve got the okay now,” he said. “Game on.” Andrew hugged him, loosening his embrace with an apology after he noticed Matt’s wince. “Never mind,” Matt said. “It’s all right.”

“Are you going to manage walking all the way to the car?” Andrew said.

“Probably not, but I’ll have a wheelchair, anyway,” Matt said. “Even if I could, it’s regulations. They’ll let you bring your car round to the entrance.”

Andrew fidgeted through the entire process of the doctor’s farewell visit, the discharge paperwork, and all the rest. Finally, Matt was in the car beside him, going home. He supported Matt up the stairs to their front door, and let them in. Lucky Luciano was at their feet immediately, bumping his head against Matt’s ankles, alternating between scolding meows and loud purring. “Watch it, you’ll trip me!” Matt said, squatting down to scratch Lucky between the ears. “I know. I’m home. I missed you too.” He tried to get up, and frowned. Andrew held out his hand, and helped pull him back to standing. Matt leaned against him.

“Come sit down,” Andrew said. “Do you want anything? I made some chocolate mousse.”

“Chocolate mousse, before lunchtime?” Matt said. “Remind me to get shot more often.” His voice turned serious. “I’m not hungry,” he said. “Just come sit with me, yeah? I’d rather that.”

Andrew nodded, sitting down with Matt on their sofa, sliding his left arm around Matt’s uninjured right shoulder. Matt turned towards him, leaning in close for a kiss.

It wasn’t until several minutes later that Andrew noticed the pressure of paws on his leg. Lucky, as usual, was walking across him to get to Matt’s lap. Matt pulled his head away, smiling, and unwound himself from Andrew’s arms. “All right, all right,” he said. “You can have a turn now, too. Sorry I haven’t got both hands,” he added, as Lucky ignored Matt’s stroking to investigate the sling on his left arm.

“He’s as glad to have you back as I am,” Andrew said. “Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, many thanks to my school instructors for their medical information, and my first readers for their input and for their patience in listening to me complain. Eternaleponine was again invaluable in steering me to Matt's voice and reactions, and also let me watch her DVD box set obsessively until I'd nearly memorized Matt's dialogue and noticed tiny details of his accessories. Especial thanks again to Margaret for checking the finer points of the dialogue. I would probably have written this faster if it weren't for the internet, which allowed me to research things down to the level of London's parking regulations. It's truly amazing what you can find if you look. Still, any errors and inaccuracies (including two bits of artistic license, which I'll be amazed if anyone spots) are entirely my own.
> 
> Oh. And if I haven't told you already, you get bonus points for identifying the TV show they're watching.
> 
> Also? I would be remiss if I did not mention my enormous debt to the late, great Dick Francis. If you want fictional depictions of trauma medicine in the UK, concealed in wonderfully engaging stories, you could ask for no one better.


End file.
